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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28990107">Every Star in the Sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/estoy_contigo/pseuds/estoy_contigo'>estoy_contigo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, I'm Sorry, Mutual Pining, horny Pride and Prejudice AU, nobody asked for this, pride and prejudice - Freeform, slowburn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:00:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28990107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/estoy_contigo/pseuds/estoy_contigo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>England, 1812.</p><p>When her sister discovers that she is pregnant by a married lover, Raquel embarks on a quest to find her a husband before her condition is detected. The arrival of an eligible bachelor, Daniel Ramos, sparks hope for their salvation.</p><p>But he is joined by a mysterious friend, Sergio Marquina, with whom Raquel immediately falls out. As Mónica's relationship with Daniel develops, the pair are forced to spend more and more time together. Though she is initially determined to dislike the man, the more time they spend together, the harder Raquel finds it to resist him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi guys!</p><p>This is my first time posting on AO3 and in the LCDP fandom as a whole. I wasn't planning posting this story until I had finished writing it, but I have some pretty crippling self esteem issues and wanted to make sure people actually wanted to read it before I spent weeks of my life writing.</p><p>I know it's a cliché theme, but (to me at least) that doesn't make it any less enjoyable.</p><p>This story won't particularly follow the plot of the novel after the first few chapters, but there will be ties to its general skeleton the whole way through. Obviously some changes have had to be made to fit everything together better. They are mostly outlined below:</p><p>- Mónica and Raquel are half sisters, sharing the same mother.<br/>- Denver, Nairobi and Tokyo are siblings. Denver and Nairobi share a surname.<br/>- Tokyo and Rio are married, as would be proper. They share a surname.<br/>- For obvious reasons, city names are not used. First names will be used once relationships are slightly more established.</p><p>I do not pretend to be an expert on the time period. There will be historical inaccuracies, to make it more enjoyable to read. Sorry if there are any glaring mistakes lol :)</p><p>Thanks for reading.</p><p>El.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Raquel, I was due to bleed two weeks ago."</p><p>Raquel froze.</p><p>She turned to look at her half sister. Mónica’s face was pale and stricken. Her words had come out in a strangled whisper and her shaking hands were running over her agonisingly white sheets.</p><p>"And you didn’t? You didn’t bleed?"</p><p>Mónica shook her head slowly. "You know how I am, Raquel. Like clockwork, every month. And -"</p><p>"Mónica, you didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t. You can’t ..."</p><p>Head spinning, Raquel sat down on her own bed. Mónica was the eldest of the three sisters, and the most beautiful. Though their mother had made the somewhat controversial decision to bring Mónica, Raquel and their youngest sister Laura out into society at the same time, it was Mónica who attracted all the suitors in the area. Raquel did not resent her for it. She had a kindness to her that Raquel did not possess. Raquel, with her quiet sarcasm, her sharp wit and harsh words towards those who belittled her, was not particularly attractive to most of Hertfordshire’s single gentlemen, who benefitted so wonderfully from their positions of power. Nor was she at all attracted to any of them.</p><p>But Mónica ... her kindness was not solely a positive attribute. She was trusting. Too trusting, some had said, and though her sister had always hotly defended her, perhaps she would be forced to concede that they had a point. His name was Arturo Román, and he was not a suitor. A married man, no less ... Mónica was convinced that he loved her, that he would try to obtain a divorce from his wife, but judging by the look on her face, his promises were empty words designed to flatter and seduce. Raquel had never liked the man, from what she knew of him, but he was her sister’s first love and the childish infatuation she suffered would not allow her to hear reason. Not until now, when the whole affair seemed to have crumbled to dust in her hands.</p><p>“I had no idea it had gone that far,” Raquel said weakly. She put her head in her hands.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to, Raquel, I swear. But he was so gentle, so kind, and I didn’t think anything out of the ordinary was happening until he - until - and then it started happening regularly. And I did want it to stop ... but, Raquel, it was so wonderful. I couldn’t let it end.”</p><p>“Oh, Mónica,” Raquel whispered, drawing her sister into her arms. Mónica pressed her face into Raquel’s shoulder and wept.</p><p>“I am completely ruined, Raquel. We’re all ruined. I’ve subjected you and Laura to spinsterdom as well. The whole family will be cut off from society. How could I have been so stupid? This is all my fault!”</p><p>“It’s not your fault,” Raquel said fiercely. “It’s that swine Román’s. We’ll make him pay, I swear, Mónica.”</p><p>“No,” Mónica replied feebly, but they both knew that she didn’t have the heart to defend him anymore.</p><p>Raquel softened. “You’re not to blame. He tricked you and dishonoured you and then abandoned you at the first sign of trouble. How can this be your fault?”</p><p>“I shouldn’t have let him.”</p><p>“You shouldn’t have had to resist him. He is a married man twice your age.”</p><p>“The world won’t see it that way.”</p><p>She ignored this and considered their options. The first was, of course, sending Mónica to a distant monastery. This did not particularly appeal; it would hurt to send her sister away, and everyone knew what the nine-month absence of an unmarried woman would mean. It was a solution, but not a real one. People would still know. People would still talk.</p><p>Another was to plead illness after she started to show, and keep her until she gave birth. But it would still be suspicious, and then there was the question of finding a midwife - and, of course, somewhere to keep the baby. Would Mónica even be able to part with her newborn child? And if she could, would they be able to find someone to adopt it? Raquel did not want an innocent child to have to grow up without a family.</p><p>The third - well, Raquel did not like this one. But she had heard whispers. Whispers of well-placed blows, of strange medical procedures, of special teas that could be brewed … it was dangerous. Sometimes the women who tried it died. But sometimes it worked and the baby went away. She thought about the young woman in Meryton, who had almost died drinking some concoction or other. She spent three weeks in bed after, and then had given birth anyway. Her family lost all their business and (at least, the last that Raquel had heard) had had to sell everything they owned and try to find a place in London. No. This was not the option they would choose.</p><p>“We need to find you a husband.” Raquel kept her voice firm. This was no time for panicking. They had to act quickly, before Mónica started to grow around the middle so much that there could be no hiding her condition.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“We'll find you a husband as soon as possible. You know you can do it, Mónica. Every man you have ever spoken to has fallen in love with you. We just need to find one who will propose quickly. You need to get married before anyone suspects a thing, and then perhaps we can claim the the child was born early.”</p><p>Her rationality did not seem to do much to calm her sister down, but Mónica nodded and forced a watery smile, eyes downcast.</p><p>Raquel embraced her and held her to her chest, rocking them back and forth. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, stroking her hair. "I'm so, so sorry, Mónica."</p><p>***</p><p>Mónica was uncharacteristically quiet at lunch, though nobody mentioned it. They ate quietly until their mother recalled her tidbit of news.</p><p>“There is a new tenant at Netherfield,” she announced to her daughters excitedly. “A single man.”</p><p>All three looked up, interested.</p><p>“Really?” Raquel enquired, trying to sound calm. She was shocked and delighted that things had fallen into place at such a perfect time. Mónica appeared to be trying not to let her excitement show, though she was failing somewhat spectacularly.</p><p>“What is his name?”</p><p>“A Mr. Ramos. Young. Very recently lost his father, so I’ve heard. Five thousand a year, though! I <em>have</em> heard whispers of it being new money -"</p><p>“Mariví!” exclaimed their father in surprise. He rarely spoke except to chastise his wife for her poor manners. Raquel hid a private smile. She loved her father; though he was a man of few words, the ones he spared often crackled with the same wit she saw in herself.</p><p>“Well, it’s true,” Mrs. Murillo continued, “though I suppose it doesn’t matter too much if he does marry one of you girls. Five thousand is five thousand, after all.”</p><p>Raquel snorted into her drink, earning her a disapproving glance from her mother. Laura began to ask questions eagerly. <em>Be quiet</em>, Raquel wanted to say, though she held her tongue.<em> You are too young and Mónica is so much more important</em>.</p><p>It was difficult, sometimes, to forgive her youngest sister for her naïveté and her youth. Laura and Raquel shared the same blood, but Raquel had always felt closer to Mónica, her older sister, though they were blood related by their mother only. Mariví had been left widowed shortly after Mónica’s birth, and had subsequently married Raquel’s father. She became pregnant almost immediately after the marriage, but several years passed before her next pregnancy - long enough that the girls had too much space between them to ever bond in the way that Raquel and Mónica had. And so it was often difficult to forgive the younger girl for her silliness and the self-absorption that came with being young.</p><p>“Well, Papa, you must call on him!” Mónica said.</p><p>Mr. Murillo simply smiled.</p><p>“Papa!”</p><p>“Patience, my dear Laura. Patience.”</p><p>“Well, are you going to tell us whatever it is you’re hiding, or continue to infuriate my sisters to the point of madness?” asked Raquel with a smile.</p><p>“I suppose I will. I called on him this morning.”</p><p>Laura shrieked with excitement and the other two laughed out loud.</p><p>“What was he like?”</p><p>“Young. Spirited, I suppose.”</p><p>Laura spoke at once. “Well, you must introduce him to us!”</p><p>“He will be attending the Parkers’ ball next week with his sisters.” Mónica and Raquel exchanged a delighted look. This was wonderful. With a whirlwind romance they could be engaged by the end of next month.</p><p>“Was he very handsome?” Laura asked, fluttering her eyelashes. Raquel rolled her eyes and received a glare as she returned to her food.</p><p>“I couldn’t possibly be the judge of that.”</p><p>“Now,” said Mrs. Murillo, delighted that her girls had taken as much of an interest as herself. “What will you girls be wearing to the ball?”</p><p>“White,” said Raquel decisively. The more virtuous she could get her sister to look, the better. They would need to capture Mr. Ramos’ attention immediately if they wanted him to call on her after the ball, so that courtship could truly begin. After that they would do everything they could to make him fall in love with her - something that, Raquel mused, observing Mónica’s delicate features and golden curls, should not prove to be particularly difficult.</p><p>The Parkers' ball was on Wednesday night, and most of the village would be there. It would be an opportunity for Mr. Ramos to meet the residents of the area surrounding his new home, so he was likely to be very busy. They would have to introduce him to Mónica as quickly as possible and hope that her looks enticed him into dancing with her first. After this she would attempt to develop enough of a relationship with him that he would be persuaded to begin a courtship.</p><p>Raquel almost laughed at the absurdity. From any outside perspective, their hastily assembled plan looked just like the fanciful attempts of so many girls they had met, girls that they had sworn toner become. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and they needed this match more than anything. It would not just be Mónica ruined; it would be the whole family.</p><p>The issue was that all too many local ladies would have the same plan in mind. All the single young women in the village were going to be there, and Raquel was willing to wager her entire home on the bet that each and every one of them would be employing the same tactic in an attempt to woo Mr. Ramos. But Mónica was the prettiest, and the richest, and the best dressed. And she was bright, too, and well read. And her stepfather had already called on the man, spoken of his daughter, and promised an introduction.</p><p>Mónica's hair, enviably, did not need curling. She simply sat on a stool and allowed Raquel to usher the servants away and pile it upon her head. Raquel wove white wildflowers through the golden curls and allowed wispy tendrils to float out of the updo, making her appear almost angelic.</p><p>"Wear the pearls," she said when she was done, casting an appraising eye over her handiwork and allowing her features to relax into a smile. "He won't be able to resist you."</p><p>"Thank you, Raquel," Mónica said. Her features were tense and she held herself stiffly. She was incredibly nervous. This much was clear.</p><p>Raquel was not quite sure of the best way to reassure her, so she simply laid a light hand on her shoulder and said nothing. She observed herself in the mirror. Her dress was white linen, like Mónica's, and the skirt flowed outwards in an appealing manner. The lace edging around the low neckline gave it a delicate look, which she liked, though she knew she could never quite look as dainty and elegant as her sister. Most of Raquel's day dresses were dark, practical colours, as she spent so much of her time outside. Looking at herself in a pretty dress made her feel strange. It did not suit her personality at all.</p><p>"Are you ready to go?" she asked quietly. Mónica nodded, so they went to find Laura, who had had the servants do up her hair as extravagantly as possible, and applied rather too much rouge to her cheeks. While it was true that Raquel wanted Mónica to be the centre of attention that night, she could not in good conscience allow Laura to attend a ball looking like this, so she tutted and began to wipe at the girl's face with a cloth. Laura protested and wriggled away, but at a sharp word from their mother, who had followed them in, she relented and allowed her sister to make her look more presentable. Raquel finished wiping the excess makeup from her face, and tugged sharply at the waistline of the dress so that it sat comfortably where it was designed to, not higher (as was the current fashion).</p><p>Laura scowled at her. Raquel simply smiled back - a response that she knew would irritate her sister to no end - and turned to face the rest of her family. "Shall we go?"</p><p>"The sooner we leave, the sooner we can come back," grumbled Mr. Murillo, who cared little for social events, and was scolded by his wife.</p><p>The family bickered amiably on the journey to the ball. Most of it was about matters unimportant to Raquel, so she stayed out of it for the most part and did her best to push down her rising nerves. It sounded silly to think it, but the events of this ball could have a profound impact on the rest of her life.</p><p>When they arrived (fashionably late, her mother would later claim, though it was by mistake, not design) the ballroom was already heaving with people. The Parker estate was large, and their ballroom beautifully designed, if a little small. It was decorated lavishly, and the hardwood floor shone with polish. At one end of the room was a sizeable pair of doors opening out into the gardens, letting in a light breeze to keep the air fresh. Raquel grinned in spite of herself. Dances like these were one of her favourite things. The air positively hummed with positivity and excitement; the young people there were already drinking a little more than was necessarily proper, and almost at once Raquel lost her family in the heaving crowd.</p><p>She made her way across the room to the seating to get her bearings for a moment. The dresses around her were an eclectic mix of colour. Though most were practical shades of brown or blue, or else whimsical white or a fashionable pastel colour, there were the occasional flashes of bright yellow or green or pink that filled the dance floor with life.</p><p>The atmosphere was far less formal than at other balls she had attended, and this allowed everyone to relax. The faces that whirled past her were already rosy and glowing in the candlelight. The music was loud, but plenty of guests had already spilled out into the gardens to get some air and catch up with one another. Raquel would find some friends out there later, she was sure, but for now she had to keep an eye on Mónica and ensure that she was ready to meet Mr. Ramos.</p><p>Mr. Murillo had not commented on the matter when they entered the ballroom, so Raquel presumed the man was not yet here. This was fine. It gave them time to get their bearings and would allow Mónica to relax somewhat before she met the man. Raquel uttered a silent prayer that he would be good man. They had too much at stake for him to be some kind of villain, or the type of man who wished only to deflower as many girls as he could before finally selecting a wife at sixty so he could have an heir.</p><p>A young man from the neighbouring village approached Raquel and nervously requested her company on the dance floor. She smiled and accepted, taking his hand, and allowed him to lead her to the centre. He was around her age, though considerably less relaxed, but he seemed astonished and delighted that she had agreed to dance with him. Perhaps by way of thanks, he leapt into the familiar steps with such enthusiasm and vigour that he almost knocked her over. Raquel bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at him out loud and politely curtsied and excused herself at the end of the dance.</p><p>She spotted Mónica stood against one wall watching the dance and went over to join her. "How are you feeling?" she asked quietly.</p><p>"I'm all right. Do you think he'll be here soon?"</p><p>"Yes. He can't be much longer or he'll appear rude to the hosts, and <em>that</em> won't place him in good favour."</p><p>"Did Papa say he was bringing his sisters?"</p><p>"Yes. Two of them."</p><p>"Good. You won't be able to dance with him the whole evening. You should try and find time to talk to them. it's very important that they like you, Mónica: they'll be able to influence him to no end, I'm sure, so if they don't think it's a good match ..."</p><p>Raquel stopped talking and swallowed anxiously. She could see from her sister's face that she was making the situation worse. <em>Stop talking, Raquel,</em> she thought, <em>you're not helping even slightly</em>.</p><p>The chatter suddenly died down and the music stopped. The crowd parted down the middle; all attention focused on the entrance to the ballroom. Raquel's mouth went dry and she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. This was it. If this went wrong ... She swore then to do what she had to. Her moral code had never quite been as strict as her sister's (well, not when it came to things that didn't really matter, anyway) and as she looked at the gaggle of young ladies stood waiting to catch the stranger's eye, she resolved that she would let nothing stop this marriage. Nothing at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone!</p><p>Thank you so much for the response you've given so far. I wasn't sure whether to continue this story or not, but the reception it's gotten from such a lovely fandom has encouraged me to keep going.</p><p>We meet Sergio in this chapter. Remember that a ball is probably his worst nightmare of an activity, so don't be too harsh on him when you've finished reading :D</p><p>Enjoy!</p><p>El.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The expectant crowd watched as Mr. Ramos' party entered the room. Raquel's father subtly gestured to the young man at the front of the group to tell his family that he was Mr. Ramos. He was not the type of man Raquel found attractive, but he had a sort of charm to him, she supposed. He had dark hair and sparkling eyes. Behind him were two dark-haired women, one escorted by another young man whom Raquel assumed was her husband. Following at the back of the group were two more men, slightly older. This was interesting. Two more potential husbands for Mónica? Though, as she watched, a much younger woman came and draped herself across the slightly friendlier-looking one's arm.</p><p>Raquel directed her gaze to his companion. A brother, perhaps? Though not related to Mr. Ramos. He had a distinctly morose look on his face, as if he would rather be anywhere in the world but here. He was handsome, she had to admit, but the abject misery on his face at being forced to mix with the commoners put her off him immediately.</p><p>Mr. Ramos broke the silence with the loudest and most grating laugh Raquel had ever heard. "Everyone's so quiet," he proclaimed.</p><p>There was a moment of alarmed quiet before the women behind him joined in.</p><p>Tension broken, the people joined in with his laughter, tentatively at first, and then the music started up again and the newcomers started to blend into the crowd. Raquel and Mónica surged into motion, grabbing Mr. Murillo's arms as they went and ignoring his protests. As they approached Mr. Ramos, their mother materialised behind them and planted a hand on the small of Mónica's back, pushing her forward.</p><p>It was too late to react. She stumbled straight into the poor man. He had no choice but to catch her in his arms - she would have knocked them both flying. "Oh, sorry," said Mrs. Murillo, not sounding particularly sorry. "I didn't see you there, sir."</p><p>"No harm done," he said, but he was smiling down at the woman in his arms. Raquel glowed. She could not have planned this to go better. Mr. Ramos turned to look at her father. "Mr. Murillo! It's good to see you again. Are these your daughters?"</p><p>"Yes." (Mr. Murillo was not particularly enjoying himself.)</p><p>"I am Mariví Murillo," her mother said quickly, trying to save the situation from her husband's rudeness. "This is Raquel Murillo - " he nodded to her and she curtsied - "and our youngest, Laura - " Laura batted her eyelashes in a fashion that made her seem somewhat absurd - "and in your arms is Mónica Gaztambidé, my eldest."</p><p>At once they both realised that he was still clutching her against his chest, and leapt apart. Raquel smirked.</p><p>"Well, Miss Gaztambidé, would you dance with me?"</p><p>"I'd be honoured," Mónica said, smiling demurely, and turned to Raquel looking as though she couldn't believe her luck. He took her by the hand and led her onto the dance floor.</p><p>"Mama," Raquel hissed, "that was <em>not</em> appropriate."</p><p>"Well, it worked, didn't it?"</p><p>"That poor man!"</p><p>"One moment of discomfort could bring him a lifetime of happiness, my darling. Any man would be lucky to have our Mónica, and did you see the look on his face when he saw her?"</p><p>One of Mr. Ramos' sisters came towards them. "Mr. Murillo! Good to see you here! These are your daughters?"</p><p>"Two of them. Raquel and Laura."</p><p>"It's <em>so </em>good to meet you. I'm Ágata Ramos, Daniel's sister. And this is my sister, Silene Cortez, and her husband, Ánibal Cortez." She gestured vaguely behind her. Her sister and brother in law were nowhere in sight. The empty wine glass in her hand did not appear to be her first, which was impressive, given that she had been there all of five minutes. Raquel admired her for that. It was frowned upon by polite society, but she respected a woman who allowed herself to enjoy things. Besides, by the sounds of her brother's finances, she did not particularly need to impress any potential husbands at this point.</p><p>Raquel envied that. As soon as she and her sisters came of age the pressure was piled upon them to marry. Their estate was entailed, which meant that it would have to go to a male heir. Should their father die before they could find husbands, the girls and their mother would be entirely at the mercy of the distant cousin who would inherit all his possessions. It meant that Raquel did not have the liberty of taking her time.</p><p>"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Ramos," Raquel smiled, liking her instantly, and moved on before her family said something else to embarrass her. She found Mónica in the seating area, laughing breathlessly with Mr. Ramos, and hesitated before going over and joining them. She had rarely seen her sister so happy: she all but squealed Raquel's name and pulled her down to sit beside her.</p><p>"Raquel," she said, "You must meet Mr. Ramos. He is <em>wonderful</em>. And this is is Mr. de Fonollosa, and his beautiful wife, and this is Mr. Marquina."</p><p>Raquel nodded again at Mr. Ramos, and smiled around at the newly introduced group. Mr. de Fonollosa and his wife shot back charming smiles and politely complimented her dress. Mr. Marquina - the miserable one from earlier - gave her a vague nod and continued to look as though he had been framed for murder and sentenced to life in prison. Frankly, she thought, he could afford to look just a little more pleased to meet her, but it was his problem, not hers.</p><p>Mónica rose to her feet. "Would you like to get some fresh air with me, Raquel?"</p><p>Sensing that it was time for a conversation, Raquel readily agreed, curtsied to the group (one could never make too good a first impression) and exited out of the French doors into the night.</p><p>Mónica turned and hugged her as soon as they were out of sight. "He's <em>perfect</em>, Raquel! This is perfect!"</p><p>Relief coursed through her with such force that her knees almost buckled. "Oh, Mónica, that's amazing!"</p><p>"Isn't it?" They chattered for a while about it. Mr. Ramos was handsome, she said, and charming, but utterly unaware of how to act in polite society. He was brash and loud and forgot his manners completely, but he seemed so well-meaning and kind that she forgot it all as soon as they started dancing. The glowing smile did not leave her face the whole time she was talking, and she laughed so frequently and so infectiously that Raquel couldn't help but join in.</p><p>"Who were the men with him?" she asked curiously, once it looked like Mónica was done. "Mr. Marquina looked as though he'd been submitted to the worst fate imaginable."</p><p>"Maybe he had. I didn't hear him say a word the whole time we were sat with him. But, Raquel, I heard someone say that he earns <em>ten thousand a year</em>. Can you imagine?"</p><p>"So he doesn't have much to be sad about," said Raquel, letting out an extremely unladylike snort.</p><p>"Well, no. Everyone seemed rather exasperated by him. Particularly his brother."</p><p>"His ... brother?"</p><p>"Yes, Mr. de Fonollosa."</p><p>"That was his brother? Wow. They're not alike at all."</p><p>"Different fathers, I think. Mr. Ramos was quite liberal with the information he shared."</p><p>It was a surprise. For every smile and charming comment Mr. de Fonollosa gave, his brother matched it with a frown, or an awkward nod, or by quietly shuffling away when people's backs were turned. Honestly, it was a little painful to watch. Raquel had not seen him dance once all evening.</p><p>"I think he paid me about as much attention as he would a chair," Raquel mused. "Which is not a polite way to meet a young lady."</p><p>Both of them burst into laughter. "He's not the only rich man in the world, I suppose. There will be other suitors. Perhaps ones who are able to smile at you every once in a while."</p><p>"That would be nice. I still have time, I suppose. Did you talk to Mr. Ramos' sisters at all?"</p><p>"Only briefly, but I think it went well, although the married one disappeared with her husband early on."</p><p>Mónica sent her a knowing look.</p><p>Raquel's eyes widened. "You don't think ..."</p><p>The girls were more knowledgeable about such matters than was widely considered proper. Their mother had decided, the night before their first outing into society, that it was kinder to them to tell them now, so that they could prepare themselves for marriage. It had surprised them at first, but Mónica had quickly adapted and Raquel was forced to admit that the idea did appeal somewhat, if it was as wonderful as her sister had claimed. And Mónica did make compelling arguments as to why it was.</p><p>"It was implied," whispered Mónica, collapsing into giggles. Raquel could not quite believe that someone would be so daring, but there had been something unpredictable behind the woman's eyes which made her think that it was more than possible.</p><p>A new song started inside. Mónica leapt to her feet. "I love this dance! Should we go back inside?"</p><p>"You go. I'm going to get a little more air." Raquel did not want Mónica to hold back from dancing with Mr. Ramos until she found a dance partner too, and that could take a while. Mónica made her way inside cheerfully. Raquel waved her off and gave her a minute before following.</p><p>As she approached the doors from the side, she heard the voice of Mr. de Fonollosa from just inside. It would not normally have occurred to her to listen, but she heard her sister's name mentioned, and felt compelled to find out what they had to say. It was her entire family's fate, after all.</p><p>"Daniel has certainly taken a liking to Miss Gaztambidé. Perhaps a little more than appropriate for a first meeting."</p><p>
  <em>That was good. Very good.</em>
</p><p>"Oh. I suppose so." That must be his brother. Mr. Marquina. He sounded exactly as apathetic as he had looked, and heavily awkward alongside it. </p><p>"She seems like an appropriate match, though, no? It's high time he found himself a wife."</p><p>"I - well, yes, I'm sure. If that's what he'd like."</p><p>"You don't think he would?" Mr. de Fonollosa sounded amused. "No, I - I'm. sure he would."</p><p>"Some people are not quite as averse to human connection as you, Sergio."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"You couldn't even <em>try</em> to enjoy yourself, brother? I know these people are a little common - "</p><p>"<em>Andrés!</em> That's not - "</p><p>"But is there not a single woman here to tempt you into a dance? So you can look like you're showing some willing? The elder Miss Murillo. She is pretty, no? Could she persuade you into a dance?"</p><p>Raquel felt a warmth in her stomach. It was the first time she had ever heard someone say something like that about her that wasn't for the purpose of an empty compliment to her mother or father. It was ... nice. She had never thought herself a pretty woman. Intelligent, perhaps. But that was not a sought-after feature in a wife.</p><p>Mr. Marquina's next words, however, stopped her in her tracks.</p><p>"Believe me, Andrés, she is nowhere near pretty enough to persuade me to dance."</p><p>Her heart sank and she frantically back-pedalled in her thoughts. Compliments like that did not matter to her anyway. </p><p>Cold fury washed over Raquel like she had stepped underneath an icy waterfall. She had never felt such inexplicable rage in her life. <em>How dare he?</em> Was beauty - something entirely out of a woman's control - really the sole indicator of her worth? To the extent that it was not worth even a single dance to find out if she had anything worthwhile in her head? She knew she had seen intelligence in the man's face - she <em>knew </em>she had - but could he not be bothered to look beneath the surface of hers? </p><p>Raquel was not a vain woman. She did not seek out Mr. Marquina's affections. But this was uncalled for. It was cruel. Dancing was a fun activity! Not something that someone needed to be forced into. What made this man so much better than her that he felt able to comment on her lack of beauty in a public space?</p><p>Seething, Raquel swore at once to herself to make this man her enemy. If he was going judge her solely based on looks, then who was she not to offer him the same courtesy? And his looks were, undeniably, unkind and miserable.</p><p>So that would be how she knew him from now on.</p><p>She stalked back inside, scowling. The brothers were still there. She took great pleasure in watching their faces fall as they registered their new company.</p><p>“I thank you for your opinion, Mr. Marquina,” she said scathingly, watching with satisfaction the man’s face change from its usual mask to surprise, then horror. “I assure you I will endeavour to improve my appearance so that it is more pleasing to you in future. Perhaps then I might be palatable enough to persuade you to dance. It is, after all, my sole purpose in life to entice you.”</p><p>She knew she had gone too far. This was beyond the realms of politeness; all three of them knew it. Rudeness was quite unseemly for a woman in Raquel’s position. But she could see that she had met her mark, and he was not quick-witted enough to come out with a cool response. He could not berate her, though with cold fear she knew that this story could be all over town by tomorrow night. Mr. Marquina’s eyes bulged and he looked astonished at her audacity. His mouth gaped open and shut like he was a fish out of water. He seemed to be searching for something to say, but clearly he was too proud for an apology. He was too proud to even look her in the eye.</p><p>Mr. de Fonollosa let out a low chuckle. “Beautifully put, Miss Murillo.”</p><p>She glared at him, making it clear that he was not without guilt in this scenario, turned on her heels and strode as elegantly as she could into the dance floor, catching the eye of the gentleman she had danced with earlier. He requested a second dance within seconds and they spun away from the two brothers with such speed that she felt dizzy. There could be no better exit, she thought, and tried to push down the sadness that came with such a brutal rejection. She did not know why the man’s words had struck her so hard, and she did not want to consider it.</p><p>Instead she resolved to forget the bastard and dance with every man in the room except for him until her feet bled. That would show him.</p><p>***</p><p>"I still can't believe he <em>said</em> that."</p><p>Raquel rolled her eyes. "I think it's been well established what we think of him now, Mónica."</p><p>"But how dare he! How dare he say that! Not only was it incredibly disrespectful, but it wasn't true! You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, and if he can't handle that, then - then -"</p><p>"I know. I know. But it's done now, and I certainly won the disagreement. You should have seen his face!"</p><p>It was true that Raquel could not quite seem to get the man's face out of her head. A part of her felt a little bad for what she had said - perhaps there was some other meaning, and he hadn't meant it like that at all. Perhaps he had her confused with someone else! But no - that recognition in his eyes had told her everything. He had known her immediately, he had known that he was talking about her, and he had known that he was caught. He wasn't sorry for having said it - he didn't seem like that sort of man - but he was certainly sorry he got caught when he did. And that served him right.</p><p>Laura was tapping away at the piano. She was fairly accomplished at it (more so than her sisters, anyway, who had never given it a second glance) but today she was attempting to compose a piece, and it was going badly. Raquel's head was aching from her late night and she wanted nothing more than to sit and talk quietly, but every dissonant note frayed her nerves further and it was beginning to take considerable effort not to slam the lid of the piano down on her sister's fingers.</p><p>"I have half a mind not to pursue a relationship with Mr. Ramos, if that's the kind of man he has as a friend."</p><p>"Oh, don't be so ridiculous." Raquel lowered her voice. "You know you need this. And just because they are friends it doesn't mean that they are similar. Or that they even like each other."</p><p>Mónica opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by their mother hurtling into the room with a letter in hand. "You have been invited to dine at Netherfield," she panted, thrusting the paper into Mónica's hand. "Tonight. You must go. Oh, darling! How wonderful!"</p><p>"You opened my letter?" asked Mónica, arching an eyebrow, though it was clear she was more excited than angry.</p><p>"Well, what was I supposed to do?"</p><p>The answer to this question was in Raquel's eyes somewhat obvious but she made no comment. Their plan was working and a feeling of euphoria had begun to settle in. This could be their salvation. She hoped that this Daniel Ramos was a better man than his friend.</p><p>"What time does it say?" she asked. "Seven o'clock. I have a few hours to get ready. Raquel, would you do my hair?"</p><p>"Of course." Mrs. Murillo surveyed them proudly for a moment, and then started to shoo them away up the stairs. "Go on then! I will find someone to ready the carriage."</p><p>Raquel shook her head. "Don't worry about it, mama. I think she should go on horseback."</p><p>There was a moment of silence as the three of them looked out the window at the slowly gathering mass of black clouds. A storm tonight would be inevitable.</p><p>Mónica looked uncertain but Raquel and her mother grinned at one another. It was a cheap shot, but one that invariably worked. Mónica would either catch a chill and have to stay at Netherfield until she recovered, or the storm would prevent her from going home without a carriage. In the case of the latter, she would either have to stay at Netherfield until the weather cleared or use Mr. Ramos' personal carriage, which would have to be returned, warranting a further meeting.</p><p>"You cannot be serious," Mónica sighed, but more than two decades of experience had told her that Raquel was much too stubborn to be swayed on matters like this, and was generally correct about them too. At least submitting herself to an ordeal like this would allow her to find out how caring the man was, Raquel thought.</p><p>"Nonsense. Of course we are. You'll be fine, dear," Mrs. Murillo said, with a smile that could not necessarily be called benevolent.</p><p>Raquel helped Mónica to select her darkest dress (to avoid transparency when wet) and did her hair in a simple style that would not look terrible even when soaked through. She put in a number of pins to hold it in place and passed a critical eye over her handiwork. Her sister did not look as spectacular as she had last night - that would be dangerous, given the incoming storm - but there was a simply beauty about her that was enhanced by her natural features. Her golden hair did not need much doing to it to look elaborate, and the dress, while plain, flattered her figure in all the right places. They put on a bonnet to try and protect her face from the worst of it.</p><p>"Mama, please let me take the carriage."</p><p>"Absolutely not. Do you want to submit the poor horse to pulling you <em>and</em> a carriage, instead of just you?"</p><p>It was about as strong an argument as claiming that Mónica would would repel the rain because she was wearing a hat, but it was clear that she would not get her way. A white horse had been selected, "to make her look like an angel", which was an interesting philosophy, if not a well-thought-through one.</p><p>"You should go now, and hopefully you'll avoid the rain for most of the journey," Raquel said. She felt a twinge of sympathy as a loud thunderclap sounded overhead, but the corners of her mouth were still curved upwards in barely suppressed mirth.</p><p>"Oh, thank you, dear sister." The sarcasm was evident in Mónica's tone. "How very thoughtful of you."</p><p>Laura's piano playing had become louder and more aggressive, and the notes clashed even more sharply than before. She was, apparently, determined that everyone else should share in her misery today. Mr. Murillo had loudly commented on her jealousy at lunch and it had not gone down well. Raquel could scarcely believe that the girl had believed herself in with a chance with Mr. Ramos when the others were so much closer to his age and not yet married, but she remembered being much more emotional at that age, and perhaps Laura's fantasies of beating her sisters to marriage and being the most successful of the three had gotten a little out of hand.</p><p>Raquel led Mónica downstairs feeling rather as if she was taking a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter, but said nothing. The wind had picked up now, and it would throw the raindrops into her sister's face and threaten to blow her from her horse. She silently prayed that her sister did not die. Then it would be entirely Raquel's fault.</p><p>"Good luck!" she said brightly at the door. Mónica allowed a little of her excitement to shine through and hugged her tightly.</p><p>"Thank you, Raquel," she whispered, holding her tight, then released her, mounted the white horse and set off riding into the night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone!</p><p>Hope you're all well. Thank you so much for the response thus far :) please continue to comment; it's the only thing motivating me in this dark time lmao</p><p>Enjoy!</p><p>El.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The obligatory note explaining that Mónica had been taken ill and would be staying at Netherfield until she was well enough to travel home came as a surprise to exactly no one. The rain cleared overnight, so Raquel resolved to go straight there in the morning. She felt a slightly guilty but, judging from the gleeful laugh upon receipt of the note, her mother did not share the feeling.</p><p>Mr. Murillo was taking the remaining two horses and the carriage into town today, so she would walk to Netherfield. She put on her thickest boots for the endeavour: it was sure to be muddy after last night's storm. She could only hope that by sticking to the path she could save her dress.</p><p>On the way, her mind returned to Mr. Marquina. She did not know why she kept thinking about him, and she did not like it. But for some reason she could not force his distraught face out of her head. He was the one who had been rude, she reasoned to herself, and thus he deserved to feel like that, and she deserved to feel vindicated.</p><p>But Raquel did not feel vindicated. In fact, she rather felt like a terrible person. Had she not been mocking him in the gardens with her sister only minutes before? The only difference in their situations was that he had been caught and she had not. Did that make her morally superior? Of course not.</p><p>But then, she had been mocking his manner - something that could be changed. She had commented on how miserable and uninterested he had looked. That was not the same as commenting on someone's prettiness. Raquel could not control how pretty she was, but he could certainly make some effort to look like he hadn't just been sentenced to death. </p><p>Even so, what if he had a genuine reason to be miserable? What if he had just had a death in the family, or lost a friend? But if that was the case, would he not have shared that family member of friend with his perfectly happy brother - or would the brother at least understand why he was so upset and not try to force him into dancing? A lover then, perhaps. So he was immoral. But Raquel could not even allow herself to think that, because Mónica had had a lover, and Raquel would offer anyone who called her sister immoral a slap.</p><p>It was a difficult situation. And for someone who had never placed any particular value on looks over intelligence or accomplishment or kindness, she could not understand why this man's words had struck her so deeply. Or why she was trying to justify them.</p><p>Was it not just what men did when they were in want of a wife? That was what Raquel had always been taught to believe, anyway - that women existed to make themselves pretty and accomplished so that a rich man would like them enough to marry them and allow them to carry his children? Raquel had never hated an idea more. She wanted to lead her own life, but that would be a remarkably difficult feat. Even if she were able to make her own way in the world, she would meet resistance at every turn by men who would not let her own property or go to university or have her own home. It was a relentless cycle. She could not be free because even if she were, society would not allow her to survive.</p><p>Raquel trudged onwards. She hiked her skirts up so that she would at least look somewhat presentable when she had arrived at Netherfield, but the fields were muddier than she had anticipated and it was becoming a difficult task.</p><p>She seemed to fall in slow motion. One minute she was walking normally, contemplating the most infuriating man she had ever had to consider, and the next she was slipping and stumbling forwards into a ditch.</p><p>Letting out a shout, she flailed her arms and tried to stagger out, but the mud sucked her boots in and held her feet fast. She overbalanced and crashed face-first into the side of the ditch, throwing her hands out at the last second to save her face, hair and dress. Her hands sunk into wet, muddy grass. She dragged her feet out and awkwardly clambered back onto the path, but the damage was done. She looked at herself in dismay.</p><p>The entire hem of her dress was soaked through and brown with mud. The water had gone over her boots, muddying them irreparably, and her hands were filthy. Her things would not be delivered until this evening, when the horses were free again, so she would be forced to present herself like this. She was three-quarters of the way there already, and turning back would be rude to her hosts and near-impossible, given the weight of her boots.</p><p>Electing instead to divert into the nearby woodland, where there was a stream, Raquel let out a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush. She listened to people more than was expected of someone like her, and had thus learnt a great deal of things she was not supposed to know. Rumours, of course, but curses too.</p><p>The bank of the stream was too muddy to sit down, and she did not want to try and wash her dress. It would be one thing to turn up muddy and quite another to drip muddy water all over Netherfield's floors. She settled for scrubbing at her hands until they were clean, and rinsing out her boots, which were dripping anyway. This was difficult, given that she could not sit down, and she kept furtively looking around to make sure that nobody was watching. This forest was part of the Netherfield estate, she was sure.</p><p>When she was satisfied that she looked as good as was possible for her predicament, she scrambled up the riverbank and walked straight into a low-hanging tree branch. This damned man! Occupying her thoughts to the extent that she was unable to look where she was walking. Why did he have to say it? Why did she have to listen? She batted the branch away angrily and marched onwards, determined now to just get to Netherfield and submit to the whole ordeal of being judged for her appearance so that it could be over. She had so badly wanted to make a good impression on the family ...</p><p>Still, it was no good dwelling on what could have been. She lifted her skirts defiantly and strode towards the large building that was beginning to appear on the horizon.</p><hr/><p>"Good heavens, Miss Murillo, did you <em>walk</em> here?" Ágata Ramos cast a somewhat judgemental eye up and down Raquel's mud-splattered body.</p><p>"Yes," Raquel responded curtly. She never took well to being spoken to as if she was a child. She raised her chin in defiance and said, "I apologise for my state of dress. I fell on my way here."</p><p>"You fell? Are you all right?"</p><p>Raquel turned in astonishment. The speaker was none other than Sergio Marquina, the very reason she had fallen. "Yes, thank you," she said, voice dripping with venom, "Though I appreciate your concern, Mr. Marquina." She looked at him coldly. She had not expected him to be here. He did not seem surprised at her anger, but seemed unable to look away from her cool gaze.</p><p>He stared back with an unreadable expression on his face. Disgust, or perhaps mere judgement. She was not used to people being able to withstand what her father had named her Medusa stare (she had been able to convey hatred through her expression since she could walk).</p><p>"Well, it doesn't matter," said Mr. Ramos brightly, after an uncomfortable silence had lapsed. "Miss Gaztambidé is doing a little better today, if you would like to see her?"</p><p>"Yes, of course." Raquel curtsied to the room and left, hearing whispers as she did so.</p><p>She was led to Mónica's room in silence. The house was exactly as grand as she had expected; it was styled elegantly, with expensive but tasteful furnishings throughout. It had not been designed like this by its new residents, she suspected, but made no comment.</p><p>Mónica was lying on a sizeable bed heaped with blankets. Her cheeks were flushed and there was a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. She propped herself up as Raquel entered.</p><p>"Raquel!"</p><p>"Mónica! Are you all right? How are you feeling?" Guilt was starting to set in now - this did not seem to be a slight chill. The servant escorting her bowed and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.</p><p>"Oh, I'm absolutely fine," she said brightly. To Raquel's surprise, Mónica shook off her blankets and sat up, looking for all the world like there was nothing wrong with her.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Mónica lowered her voice. "Come on, Raquel. It only started raining when I was nearly here and then they started talking about the rain clearing so I would be able to go back ... it was all going so well that I pretended to have been taken ill."</p><p>"<em>Monica!</em>"</p><p>Her sister did not appear to feel any shame over the matter. "It was important. I have to make a good impression. You know that." </p><p>She pinched her own cheeks until they reddened, then dipped a finger in the glass of water by her bed and swept it across her brow.</p><p>"Please tell me you didn't swoon into his arms."</p><p>Both laughed. "I'm not that far gone."</p><p>"Perhaps your soul isn't completely lost, then. How has it been? Is he responding to your advances?"</p><p>"He's been so wonderful Raquel, you wouldn't believe. Everything is perfect. I think - I think this is going to work! It really is! Can you believe it?"</p><p>She couldn't. Not really. It all seemed too good to be true. "Tell me about him."</p><p>"Well, the whole family doesn't come from wealth. They grew up in the city and, yes, Mama was right that it's new money - but they're so lovely and honestly I don't think it matters at all! In fact, they're all so humble that you can scarcely believe how much they have. They all insisted that I address them by their first names, no matter how improper that is. Isn't that strange? But they're not used to having the money at all so the atmosphere is all so informal and relaxed, and I <em>know</em> that's not what I should be looking for, but it feels so right ..."</p><p>"Of course," Raquel murmured, trying to imagine feeling relaxed enough around Mr. Marquina to address him as Sergio. She shuddered. It didn't seem to make sense in her head. "I think the idea of new money is horribly outdated anyway. Why should it matter that someone doesn't come from a noble lineage?"</p><p>"Exactly! Anyway, I'm not sure where the money came from, but I think that Sergio - "</p><p>"Mr. Marquina, please - I can't think of him as that informal."</p><p>"Well, whatever you want to call him, I think he orchestrated it. They kept didn't say what it actually was, but they all call him Professor and they all seem ... grateful to him, I suppose. He studied mathematics at Oxford, did you know? And anyway, he seems to have set up the scheme that's been earning them so much money. They all seem to really care about him."</p><p>Raquel couldn't help but ask. "And was he as miserable as he was at the ball?"</p><p>"Not at all. He seemed much more comfortable around these people." Mónica grimaced. "But he was very awkward around me. I don't know if he's embarrassed about what happened or if he just doesn't like strangers, but it was funny. He even asked about you - without even acknowledging what he said."</p><p>That was odd. Presumably he was just saying it to be polite, but he had already made his feelings towards Raquel perfectly clear. Why not ask about the whole family, if he was making small talk? Maybe he really did feel bad. It didn't seem likely. It was probably that he was trying to cover his tracks and make himself look like a half decent human being (which Raquel seriously doubted he was).</p><p>He didn't even bother to apologise. They were both in the same ballroom all evening and not once did he even try to tell her he was sorry.</p><p>"What a strange man."</p><p>"Yes." Her sister did not seem to care all that much. Raquel could not quite understand why she herself <em>did</em> care so much. She had never wanted to be an object of the male gaze and she certainly did not need Mr. Marquina's approval. But the weight of the words sat low in her stomach. She supposed it was the first time she had been subject to real scrutiny, and if this odd man with his serious eyes and stiff posture did not think she was even. worth a dance, then who in their right mind would want to marry her?</p><p>Of course she didn't want to marry, but she had no control over that. It was her only optioned she was determined to make the best of it. But if no one even considered her ... then she would have to panic. It would be a problem.</p><p>Marriage was a means of control and oppression, perhaps, but the autonomy offered by not having to avoid every tiny thing that made you less attractive to suitors was the one thing she had always longed for.</p><p>"Raquel?"</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>Mónica reached out to her. "There's, um. There's a twig in your hair, Raquel."</p><p>Raquel swore loudly and wrenched it out of her hair. "Of <em>course</em> there is," she spat, fuming. "And I stood up in front of them all like an idiot. Sorry, Món."</p><p>Thankfully, her sister was laughing. Raquel could not quite see the humour in the situation, but the corners of her mouth twitched upwards anyway. Things like this were never going to be easy.</p><p>***</p><p>"Is your father well, Miss Murillo?" enquired Mr. Ramos politely over dinner.</p><p>Raquel shot him a grateful smile. Mónica had been deemed too unwell to dine with the group, much to her frustration, so Raquel was forced to attend dinner alone. The silence had become somewhat painful; it was oddly detached from the description Mónica had given. "Yes, thank you," she said. "Though I think he will be happier when the social season is done. He is not a particularly social creature, I am afraid."</p><p>This got a laugh, at least. Mr. de Fonollosa nudged Mr. Marquina, who was sat next to him. "We all know a man like that."</p><p>Mr. Marquina reddened and stared down at his food. By some horrible error he had been seated opposite her, and he had been doing everything he could to avoid her piercing gaze all evening. This was fine by her, but she was not going to tiptoe around him for the sake of preserving his dignity when he had so thoroughly trodden all over hers.</p><p>She arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"</p><p>"Oh, but Sergio loves to spend time with us," Mrs. Cortez said with a grin. "It's just being forced to meet desperate young ladies who want to dance with him that he doesn't like."</p><p><em>So that's how he played it off?</em> Raquel gritted her teeth and said dangerously, "Oh, really? I would love to be introduced to some of these desperate young ladies, if that's the case, because I was not aware of a single one present at the last ball."</p><p>"Yes, Silene, in fact I distinctly remember the only <em>desperate</em> young lady there being you," Mr. de Fonollosa continued smoothly, casting an approving smile in Raquel's direction. "Although you were certainly desperate enough to make up for the others, I suppose, even if it wasn't directed towards Sergio."</p><p>Mrs. Cortez scowled. Mr. Ramos let out the same laugh that he had at the ball - loud, grating, and throaty. Raquel got the sense that the conversation. was headed in a direction that she did not want it to go, but that it was spiralling further and further out of her control, and there was nothing she could do to get it back on track without embarrassing herself even more.</p><p>A subject change was in order. "Where do you come from, Mrs. de Fonollosa?"</p><p>The young woman opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a long, loud groan from Miss Ramos. "This is torture, everyone. I'm exhausted already. We're friends, now, aren't we? Call us by our first names, please, before I have to take to my bed for two weeks to recover my nerves."</p><p>"Ágata," Mr. Marquina said sharply, but Raquel spoke before he could continue. Impropriety be damned, she was going to do everything in her power to make this man regret ever having spoken.</p><p>"Do you have an issue with us being close friends, Sergio?" she said sweetly, to uproarious laughter from the rest of the group.</p><p>"You know all our names, right? I'm Ágata, this idiot is Daniel, that's Silene, our sister, and Aníbal, her husband ... then there's Andrés, there, his wife, Tatiana, and - well, you clearly already know Sergio."</p><p>"Well, then you must call me Raquel," she said. Mónica had been right - she felt oddly at home with these people, and though it felt a little jarring to speak to them as though they were family or very close friends, it did make her feel as if she belonged. "It's improper, we know," said Andrés, "but formality is such a <em>bore</em>, don't you think? Besides, if Daniel is indeed to marry your sister - "</p><p>Daniel spluttered. "It's a little early for that, isn't it?"</p><p>Andrés began to defend his views but Raquel was no longer listening. She began to do a little dance in her head. This whole group seemed to agree that Mónica and Daniel were a perfect match. Perhaps they could be persuaded to hold an early wedding ...</p><p>"Raquel?" Tatiana's gentle voice broke her out of her trance.</p><p>She smiled. "Sorry?"</p><p>"I asked whether you thought Mónica felt the same way."</p><p>Raquel narrowly managed to avoid laughing out loud. "I don't think I have ever seen her so beside herself," she said happily, and the people around the table cheered. Daniel blushed deeply. She noticed that most wine glasses around the table were empty and had been refilled several times. She too had had more than she was accustomed to, and felt a warmth in her cheeks and freedom in her chest that surprised her, even with Mr. Marquina's - <em>Sergio's</em> - eyes boring into her whenever she wasn't looking.</p><p>With the meal over, they settled on sofas in the parlour. Raquel struggled with the odd sense that she had become a part of society that was not widely accepted, with unmarried men and women sprawling comfortably next to each other on sofas, and such a lack of social etiquette that she was quite at a loss. There seemed to be scandal in the way they moved and acted around each other, a lack of the stiffness and repression that was expected of a wealthy family. She thought that if the rest of the world could see this, they would be shocked at the way they spoke.</p><p>And yet ... they made her feel safe. Comfortable. She was not at home in such a situation, perhaps, having been raised to follow unspoken social rules to the letter, but the feeling that she could not embarrass herself by forgetting one of these rules was a tremendous relief.</p><p>"Do you play the pianoforte, Raquel?" Ágata asked her.</p><p>"Not if you value your hearing," she said with a grin. She had had lessons as a child, but hated it so much that she downright refused to practice, and in all the years since the lessons had stopped, she had seldom touched the instrument.</p><p>Andrés laughed. "We don't. Not after hearing all these fools talk all day." Silene fixed her with a piercing gaze. "Do you sing?"</p><p>"Only when forced."</p><p>"Then we will force you."</p><p>Panic. She did not like to sing in front of an audience and never had. She was not an accomplished singer; she sang when walking alone to amuse herself, but it was more to hear the sound of the music being whipped away on the wind than as a result of any particular warm feeling towards the sound of her own voice. "I don't think - "</p><p>"Sergio will play the accompaniment."</p><p>All at once Raquel understood what Silene was doing. She did not know the women well, but it was fairly clear that she was determined to make people as deeply uncomfortable as was humanly possible as a method of entertaining herself. It was a cheap shot, to make two sworn enemies duet together, but from the gleeful look on her face, it was exactly what she wanted.</p><p>"Silene ..."</p><p>Sergio looked distinctly pained. If this was how the game was being played, then Raquel would do everything in her power to get the upper hand. "Very well."</p><p>She rose reluctantly and started to move towards the pianoforte, but its pianist remained seated stiffly in his chair. "I do not think Miss Murillo wishes to perform."</p><p>"It would be rude to deny my host. I will perform one song and then you will all be traumatised enough to never ask me again."</p><p>"She should not have to be forced to perform when she does not want to. That would be unkind."</p><p>"One song," Raquel said, firmer now. He did not get to dictate what she did.</p><p>"She already said she'll do it, Sergio, come on."</p><p>"No." His voice came out surprisingly powerful. "I will not."</p><p>She saw through his farce immediately. He did not care if she was uncomfortable, but he did not want to have to play alongside her. That was what friends did, and they were not friends. Obviously just being in such proximity to her waste much for him to handle.</p><p>"Don't be a fool, brother, she's up now. She wants to perform."</p><p>"I won't!" he exclaimed, looking fixedly at his feet. "I am going to bed. Goodnight."</p><p>They all watched in astonishment as he rose and hurried out of the room, determinedly not making eye contact with Raquel. She was left stood the centre of the room, cheeks burning with humiliation.</p><p>"I can accompany you if you like," came Tatiana's voice, quietly, gently, and Raquel mustered up a smile and shook her head. </p><p>"I should go and check on my sister, anyway," she murmured, knowing full well that the only thing wrong with Mónica was utter boredom at being left in her room all day. "Thank you all for the meal. Goodnight."</p><p>She curtsied quickly and all but ran out of the room, determined not to let her embarrassment show any more than it already had. His rudeness was astounding. How much would it have hurt to play one song with her? She hadn't even <em>wanted </em>to sing. Now he had made her look exactly like the desperate maiden they had all presumed her to be.</p><p>Raquel cursed herself and him. How dare he treat her like that? He had no right at all. She really must be truly repulsive to him.</p><p>She did not want to be attractive to a man like that, but such blatant hatred based entirely on her appearance made her want to scream and cry. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he got to do and say whatever he liked while she had to scurry around and try not to offend anyone lest she be left without a husband.</p><p>Raquel said goodnight to Mónica and went straight to bed from there. She did not pass Sergio on her way but she could not force his rejection out of her mind.</p><p>She did not sleep a wink.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! </p><p>So sorry for missing last week's update. Life got in the way a little bit. I should be back to the regular Monday updates next week.</p><p>Enjoy the chapter :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The girls returned home the following morning, Mónica appearing to have made a miraculous recovery once she became too bored to continue the farce. A note had been sent to say that they had a guest staying back at home, so they were to be on their best behaviour. Raquel did not know who this Ángel Rubio was, but she imagined that her mother would want her to marry him. Joy.</p><p>They were greeted at the door by their anxious-faced mother, who was trying to force a smile. "He's the one who will inherit the estate when your father dies," she whispered, and Raquel felt the force of the statement hit her fully in the chest. This man, should their father die in an untimely manner, before the girls were married, would have full control over their lives. No wonder Mrs. Murillo was so keen for them to be at their best. If they could arrange a marriage match, the estate would stay in the family, and the future would be much less uncertain.</p><p>She knew very little of Mr. Rubio, except that he was a distant cousin of hers, though not through blood. She could not recall the specifics but she believed the estate had been left to his adoptive father, who had died, and he in turn had left all his possessions to his ward. A marriage match was clearly also his intention, judging by the speed at which he stood up when the girls entered the room.</p><p>"I am Ángel Rubio," he said, with an awkward bow. The girls smiled and curtsied and he sat down clumsily. Mónica had a look of immense relief on her face that she was already spoken for, and Raquel suddenly realised, horribly, that he could only be here for her. Mónica was soon to be engaged and Laura was too young and too silly to really be considered.</p><p>She looked the man up and down. She felt nothing in particular towards him: he was not particularly attractive to her, and there was no spark of intelligence or humour in his eyes that she could find. There was not a trace of laughter in his expression, though he did not seem unkind. Raquel did not know what she had expected when she came face to face with her future husband, but it was certainly not this. He did not look like the type of man she would love. He also did not look like the type of man who would leave her to her own devices, offering the freedom she longed for in a match.</p><p>Raquel started desperately searching her mind for ways she could avoid marrying him. He did not seem to reciprocate her sentiment - he spent a great deal of time staring at her face, as if transfixed. It seemed to be a clumsy attempt at flattery, as if he was following some misguided advice to impress a woman by pretending her beauty had left him speechless. He need not have bothered. Sergio Marquina had made it perfectly clear that she was nothing to stare at, and she would not be drawn in by this man's advances.</p><p>"Where do you come from, Mr. Rubio?" Mónica asked at last, when the heavy silence became too much to bear. The. family positioned themselves so that the only place left for Raquel to sit was next to Mr. Rubio. She would rather stand, but that would have appeared incredibly rude to their guest and she did not want to do anything that might build up any kind of animosity. He had her future in his hands if she failed to marry, after all.</p><p>"London," he blurted, looking Raquel dead in the eyes and attempting to smile at her. She shifted as far away as she could manage, somewhat disturbed by his immediate and hideously crude attempts at displays of affection.</p><p>"And what is it you do?"</p><p>"He's a Bow Street Runner!" Mrs. Murillo said excitedly. This got Raquel's attention. She had always been fascinated by the idea of an elite team of individuals tasked with bringing criminals to justice. She had always thought that it would have been something she would wish to pursue, had she been born a man. As it was, she was scarcely allowed to run, let alone have a career.</p><p>Mr. Rubio looked disgruntled at the name but nodded in confirmation.</p><p>"And is that a lucrative trade, Mr. Rubio?" asked her father, somewhat derisively. It was clear that he did not think much of the man, and Raquel couldn't say she blamed him. She wondered if he had been here all morning, and if he had had anything interesting to say in response to her father's grilling.</p><p>Without much else to do, Raquel resolved to find out as much about his job as possible, in the hope that she might experience it vicariously. She managed to engage him in polite conversation about it for an hour, while her family yawned and Mr. Murillo muttered some excuse and disappeared immediately to his study. As the conversation continued, she began to feel less and less warm towards this man, who seemed to be doing everything in his power to make his job seem as thrilling and dangerous as one could possibly imagine. He painted himself as some kind of brooding hero, which did not reflect on him in a flattering light, and insisted on telling her the most violent and disturbing stories he could, taking an almost vindictive pleasure in telling them. He did not ask a single question to the others, only allowing their voices to fill the gaps with another reluctant question while he paused for breath.</p><p>Eventually Mrs. Murillo was forced go interrupt him so that they could go to lunch. Apparently realising that he may have overstepped his mark, he was quiet over lunch, but kept looking up at Raquel and sending her smiles which she did not return. After lunch the girls had planned to go down into town to buy ribbons, and Raquel was determined to let this happen. Mr. Rubio could do anything he wanted this afternoon, she reasoned, as long as it had nothing to do with her.</p><p>Rather than fuelling her interest in crime enforcement, she thought, he had made her feel sick to her stomach with his tales of beating and arresting men whose crime was solely to steal food to feed their starving family, or to choose the wrong aristocrat to beg for scraps. She did not want to think about how the men in charge of public safety were just as morally corrupt as those they were trying to stop. She wondered how many people had been killed for crimes they committed out of desperation. She wondered if all the men there seemed to lead the lifestyle Mr. Rubio seemed to imply they did.</p><p>He spoke of himself as if he were the sole moral member of the group, and that the others committed terrible sins and hated all women. Hidden in his words seemed to be the promise that <em>he</em> wasn't like that, and <em>he</em> would never treat his wife as his colleagues did. She did not trust that in a person. Why, if he was so different, had he not denounced them? Why, if he loved his job and colleagues so much, was he trying to claim he was different?</p><p>His attempts at flattery stung her more that anything. They felt like a mockery. She knew she wasn't as beautiful as he kept trying to insinuate. Sergio's words kept ringing around her head. <em>She is nowhere near pretty enough</em> ... after that, anything Mr. Rubio said felt like a lie. She could not take him seriously. She knew she wasn't pretty and she knew he was just saying these things in a misguided attempt to charm her so that she would want to marry him.</p><p>There were soldiers in Meryton, which sent Laura wild. Even Raquel couldn't help but smile at her sister's frenzied joy. She disappeared somewhere after deliberately dropping her handkerchief into the wind in the hopes that a dashing young soldier might pick it up for her. The other two wondered off, leaving her to her own devices, which was not exactly the ethical thing to do, but it was definitely what all three of them wanted.</p><p>On their way to the shop, Raquel felt for her own handkerchief in her pocket, sensing that it was about to fall out. She fumbled with it, trying to push it back in, but somehow succeeded in pulling it out further until the wind whipped it out of her hands entirely and off down the street.</p><p>
  <em>Wonderful.</em>
</p><p>Raquel groaned and started to chase after it. There was nothing more dehumanising, she thought, than chasing something in the wind. Passers-by turned to look at her sympathetically and she wanted to scream at them.</p><p>She was so distracted by her chase that she didn't look up until she slammed into a strong male body.</p><p>"Ouch!" she yelled, before she could stop herself, then looked up into the somewhat pained face of a soldier. "Oh, my goodness, I'm so sorry, sir - I didn't - "</p><p>"Most women do not resort to such extreme measures to get my attention, but I certainly appreciate the effort," he said, not unkindly, staring down at her like he was some benevolent god.</p><p>Raquel's eyes widened. "My apologies, sir, but that's not what I was trying to do at all. I was chasing - "</p><p>"Your handkerchief?" he asked, dangling in front of her face. She took it slowly.</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>"The pleasure is mine, although I'm not sure my ribcage would agree." He bowed. "Lieutenant Alberto Vicuña."</p><p>"Lieutenant?" she repeated, finding herself rather charmed. He nodded and smiled at her. "Well, I am very sorry."</p><p>"Raquel!" Laura's voice rang out from behind her. Raquel turned to see her running along the street. "Did you drop yours on purpose too?"</p><p>Mr. Vicuña arched an eyebrow and hid a chuckle.</p><p>"Of course not!" she said indignantly, before realising that she had just made herself look exactly as if she had.</p><p>"So your name is Raquel?" he prompted.</p><p>"Yes. Where are my manners?" She curtsied. "Raquel Murillo. This is my sister, Laura Murillo."</p><p>He took her hand and kissed it, making her feel ridiculous and a little excited. She should not have been impressed by what felt like an outrageous display of flirting, but she had had a hard few days, and she was so tired of Mr. Rubio's advances and so worn down by Mr. Marquina's insults that it felt ... nice. Surprisingly nice.</p><p>"Are your ribs giving you pain?" she asked, wincing. She had managed to avoid injury, by some miracle, but she suspected this was largely due to Mr. Vicuña absorbing the impact into his own chest.</p><p>"Not at all," he said, with a dazzling smile. "Though perhaps I would be more inclined to forgive you if you allowed me to accompany you for the afternoon."</p><p>"Well, I'm not sure you would particularly enjoy ribbon shopping, but I thank you for the offer, Mr. Vicuña."</p><p>His eyes sparkled. She found herself liking him. "Quite the contrary, Miss Murillo. It is one of my favourite activities."</p><p>"Well, if you put it like that ..."</p><p>He offered her his arm, which she took. Mónica, who had been attempting to distract Laura while Raquel and the mysterious soldier conversed, shot her an impressed look as they met and began to walk towards the ribbon shop.</p><p>***</p><p>The group ended up wandering along the river, deep in conversation. Mr. Vicuña was talking about how he hoped to one day have a family, and Raquel was transfixed. She knew she shouldn't be so captivated by this man - a man she had only known for a few hours - but after the chaos of the past few days, it was both refreshing and exciting to spend time with such a charming man.</p><p>Mónica and Laura, too, seemed to like him a lot, and he seemed so at home in their little group that it did not feel strange to have an extra member at all. He was polite and engaging towards both of her sisters, but it was clear to all that his attention was on Raquel, and this thrilled her. Where Mr. Rubio's advances had disgusted her, this man seemed so gentle and non-invasive that she found she did not mind at all. In fact, she rather liked it.</p><p>There was a shout from the other side of the river. Raquel squinted against the sunlight and spotted Daniel Ramos, waving furiously. Mónica let out a delighted little laugh and went over to her edge of the water to talk to them.</p><p>Raquel went too, guessing that it was best to look willing to interact. Daniel was joined by Aníbal, Andrés and Sergio. They all looked at Mr. Vicuña with interest, except for Sergio, who had on his face an emotionless mask. Raquel suddenly realised that she and Mr. Vicuña were standing rather closer than was considered appropriate, and hastily stepped away. She saw an expression pass across Sergio's face that she could not quite recognise. It was gone as quickly as it had come.</p><p>"Who is your friend, Miss Murillo?" Andrés called. He seemed to have exempted himself from the first names only rule, which seemed to suit him. She could not quite imagine a man such as Andrés being any less formal than he already was.</p><p>"Alberto Vicuña, sir," he called back, bowing again. "Are you friends of these delightful ladies?"</p><p>Sergio shot the poor man a look of barely concealed distaste that made Raquel's blood boil. What was it to him if a man looked at her as something more than an object? He had made his own opinions clear, but that did not by any means relate to whether others were allowed to. <em>Well, two can play at that game</em>, she thought.</p><p>She put as flirtatious a smile as she could on her face and <em>giggled</em>. It was not easy to do a particularly good job at it - it was not a sound she was accustomed to making - but it hit the mark, because she saw Sergio's alarm almost immediately. "He's a lieutenant," she said, as if she was trying to impress them. Perhaps she was. Why shouldn't she show them that she was not some ugly, pitiable damsel? Men were indeed capable of romantic attraction towards her and there was no reason at all why she shouldn't prove it.</p><p>Her mood was so laughably different from how it had been a few hours ago that it felt almost jarring. She really had been thinking that she would never be worthy of love, and yet here was a man, not three hours later, making his attraction perfectly clear. She felt absurdly satisfied, particularly now that she was face to face with a man who had refused to even play the pianoforte next to her. He did not seem particularly impressed, of course, but why would he? The humiliation of being proved wrong would be enough, she was sure. Raquel stepped closer to Mr. Vicuña again to make her intentions clear. She put a hand on his arm. for good measure.</p><p>Daniel, for his part, was completely and utterly focused on Mónica. He did not seem to be able to hear a word anyone else said. It was true that she did look somewhat ethereal, in an almost floaty pale blue dress, with the setting sun lighting her face and hair up in a glow of gold. She was attempting to make conversation with him, though they kept breaking off and just smiling at each other. It was endearing, if slightly sickening.</p><p>Sergio chose that moment to walk off at considerable speed. Was her presence really so unbearable for him? His brother and friends looked somewhat perplexed. Andrés called after him in a low voice, but he did not react - if anything, he started to walk faster. Raquel watched his strong figure stride across the field. Strange.</p><p>Mr Vicuña muttered under his breath, "What's his problem?"</p><p>Raquel shook her head, completely at a loss.</p><p>Rather startled, Sergio's friends gathered themselves together and made their exit hastily, trying to catch up with the man before he ended up halfway across the country.</p><p>She didn't quite know what to make of it. Had he left because of her? Had the very sight of Raquel repulsed him so much that he couldn't stand to be near her, even twenty feet away? Had she really offended him that much at the ball? Or if not at the ball, at dinner? Surely it wasn't his place to be offended. <em>He</em> had insulted <em>her</em>. Perhaps he was embarrassed about his own conduct. But that didn't make sense either.</p><p>It had to be pride. She had humiliated him by insulting him. Perhaps he was the kind of man who could not bear to be insulted by a woman. She frowned at the thought. The look in his eyes ... it had not been anger or embarrassment at the ball. She didn't know how to place it. Panic was perhaps the closest she could get to describing it.</p><p>But why was she defending him? She didn't need to defend him. He had made his feelings towards her perfectly clear. She did not need to make up little reasons in her mind for why he might actually be a good person.</p><p>It was ridiculous how much time she had wasted these past few days thinking about Sergio Marquina. Raquel took a deep breath, pushed him out of her mind and turned back to Mr. Vicuña. She would not let a man who thought of her as nothing more than the dirt under his shoe get in her way.</p>
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